


All for blood

by Haydn288



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aggressive Dean Winchester, Blood and Violence, Calm Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Manipulative Castiel (Supernatural), Murderers, Obsessive Castiel (Supernatural), Obsessive Dean Winchester, Serial Killer Castiel (Supernatural), Serial Killer Dean Winchester, Serial Killers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27886501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haydn288/pseuds/Haydn288
Summary: Dean Winchester is no small man. He is very aware of his demons, he always has been. Being the most feared serial killer known for a long time, Dean finds peace each time he kills. Whether it be for entertainment, fun or something more, there always seems to be a fresh body left in his trail.He hated the attention, until someone started to play him for it.Dean was never one to share, but what would happen if he did?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

Dean sighed as he placed a cigarette between his lips. _Nothing better than a cigarette on your lips along with the cool winter air_. His thoughts quickly returned to his task at hand as he lit his smoke, taking a draw before taking the cigarette between his fingers and looking at the man approaching him. He assessed the man quickly, the same way he did every time. Remus Williams, 6'2, Skinny, but probably lean and fit, it's hard to be certain with the suit he's wearing, it's a size too big. _Probably a hand me down,_ Dean thinks. The man, Remus, doesn't seem on edge, he held his shoulders straighter to appear taller and less wiry, almost like he'd walked the street in the dark a hundred times before tonight. Maybe he had. Dean would never know.

Dean watched as Remus relaxed, feeling safe in Deans company. That's probably why Dean was good at this, and anything that requires human interaction, because although he stood tall at six foot one and he had the ability to look like anyone's worst nightmare, his pretty boy face and mildly athletic build paired off with his charms and attractive smile could lure almost anyone into a false sense of security. He silently offered his company a cigarette as he placed his own back between his lips. He almost prayed that his offer would be accepted, anything to extend the fun for just a moment longer. 

Remus politely declined the cigarette not noticing the frown that pulled on Deans face. Dean finished his own cigarette, putting it out on his hand while Remus was watching a couple walk by. He places the butt in his worn leather jackets pocket before stuffing his hands in his jeans pocket. Remus turned to him once more with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't you say your mate would be here by nine thirty?"

Dean pulled his left hand out of his pocket and looked at his watch. Nine forty-five. It was go time. Taking one moment to listen for anything other than silence, he grinned when he heard nothing but the light breeze through the trees nearby. He saw no one, so he took his opportunity. The penknife he pulled from his pocket was one of the sharpest he owned. He held the wooden handle as he flicked the blade open, hearing it snap and lock into place. His eyes darted up to meet Remus' and he smirked with pleasure at what he saw there. Surprise, confusion and **_fear._**

Remus was fast. Dean had expected as much. Unfortunately for Remus, Dean was a hell of a lot faster. He grabbed the slim man by the back of the neck, kicking him in the backs of his knees so he slumped to the ground. "Your pretty quick. It's a shame you aren't quicker than me though, you probably could have lost me closer to town if you were lucky, but it appears your luck is elsewhere tonight."

Dean huffed when his new friend didn't reply. _He's a fucking boring one. Pity. I was excited earlier with the hope of a good chase._ "Fine, i'll make it quick". His movements were quick and precise, as if they had been done a hundred times before. They had. Dean watched in amazement as the deep crimson splattered over the cement pavement and ran freely from the gaping slice in his throat, down Remus' clothed chest and stomach. He watched as the blood spread, making the worn suit Remus was wearing stick to his figure. _He is lean. I knew it._ Remus' body fell forward, his head smacking the pavement. Dean was positive he heard a bone break at the impact, probably his nose, not that it mattered, he was dead after all.

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, Dean retrieved a tissue as he walked peacefully away from the body. He wiped his favourite penknife clean before closing it and sliding it back into his pocket. After a ten minute walk, he had reached the outskirts of the city, which meant he would start to see people soon. Stopping at a nearby phone box he dialled the emergency services and waited till they picked up the phone.

"Remus Williams, six foot two give or take an inch," By now the operator should be aware of who they're talking to. There's only one killer that's currently active that calls after each murder to describe the victim. "Light brown hair and some of the bluest eyes I have ever seen. A nice suit despite its little bit of wear and tear. Attractive lad, I won't lie. Pity he's dead."

Dean hung up the phone and kept walking. Pushing the slightly bloodied tissue into his pocket, he offered a polite smile to everyone he passed on the street. He hated rude people. It was unbecoming. It wasn't much farther to his apartment and he unlocked the door smoothly, sliding inside quickly as he could hear the police sirens nearby. 

He settled into his couch, smiling as the sound of long nails clipping against the hardwood floor of his bedroom and hall. Dean moved his arm, allowing space for the shaggy German Sheppard to hop up beside him and lay its head onto his lap. "Hey sweetheart. You behave well while I was out?" He muttered softly, pressing a small kiss to the dogs head. Dean was well aware how it amusing it may be to someone who could find out about him. Of course he would take perfect care of his dog, shower her in love and adoration after coming home from slitting some pretty boys throat. But to Dean, it made sense.

He pulled himself off the couch, heading into the bathroom and shedding his clothes. He had been lucky enough to only get blood on his hands that could easily be shoved in his pockets at the time or explained away by the excuse of a nose bleed. Turning the shower on he examined himself in the mirror as the water warmed. Dean poked a large red, ragged scar that he had picked up on one of his harder hunts a few months back, which had been a lot more appealing than the hunt he had just completed. Dean understood that it was considered ugly, but he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of all the scars that trailed and cut across his body.

The water was a comfortable blanket surrounding his body, warming his skin and allowing him a moment of silence within his head. He lathered his head in shampoo, taking his time. He didn't like to rush anything, especially things that soothed him. 

Laying in bed that night with his sleeping dog beside him, Dean walked through the rest of his nights activities. He had stepped out of the shower, dripping everywhere before towelling himself off and digging into his jeans pocket that lay on the floor, pulling his penknife from the mostly clean bundle of clothes. A few specks of blood, nothing overly noticeable that would likely wash out fine with the right product, if not, he could just burn them if it came to it. He had dressed himself in comfortable clothes, eating a light meal before taking the dog out for a walk. There had never been a need for a leash with Bella, she had always been happy enough to walk at Deans heal and never stray, so he didn't bother going in search of her collar and leash tonight. 

They had enjoyed a short walk, Dean preferring not to stay outside too long after a hunt so close to home. He usually would never be so reckless, but considering that he's been killing for months around the surrounding areas, it seemed to be time to start in his own time so the police wouldn't suspect he lived nearby. _Doesn't fit the profile,_ they had said in the papers and on the TV. _They also said that I hadn't started until three years ago when they received the first phone call._ Dean chuckled in the darkness to that thought. The truth was that the police had no fucking clue what the hell they were searching for and he knew it. They knew it, and they also knew that he knew it. Dean only had one rule when it came to his extra curricular activities. He made it when he had been no more than seventeen, as he watched a thirteen year old Sammy choke on the blood that tried to push its way up his throat, to the point where the gurgle of blood was louder than the groans he made when his torso shifted and disturbed the deep, disturbing blade marks that rushed with blood at the slightest movement. _No one under the age of 18. Never. No matter if killing a child could prevent your impending arrest, that is the only rule to obey._

Sam had known what Dean was. He had walked in on Dean standing over a corpse and that had been it. His secret was out and there was nothing more to be said on the matter. Sam didn't ask and Dean didn't offer, a solution that worked for both of them. When Dean had found the dying Sammy, he half expected Sam to beg and plead for Dean to never kill someone again, but much to his surprise, he didn't. So Dean packed away the gruesome groans and whines that he had heard, the feeling of the slick, thick blood sticking to his hands as it dried and the smell of copper so strong and invading that he could almost taste dirty coins on his tongue. 

Of course, Deans nightmares had been plagued by the memory more than once, but never enough for Dean to think on it too long. Never enough for him to stop.

He had cleaned his penknife with a cloth and bleach, cleaning every single piece of it three times over until he was comfortable with his work. Comfortable enough to slip into bed without thinking much more about it. As his eyes slid shut that night, Dean was already excited to start the search for a new hunt.

He always was.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean grinned at the newspaper that morning. He knew what it would be, but that didn't make him any less excited to see it. In large, bold font at the top of the front page, the writing stood out perfectly on the weathered paper. _**Green eyed killer teases police with new body,**_ it read. 

Of course, Dean had done just that, the reactions playing out beautifully. Truthfully, Dean hated attention to his activities, but he also craved the fear that he rooted into people. He always made sure to appreciate the fearful and horrified reactions his acts received. He treasured them just as much as he treasured the feeling of skin and bones being mutilated by his own hand.

Flicking through the article quickly, he saw the same details he often did. Remus Williams' name had been shared along with a colour picture of him. Dean saw that his original assessment had been correct. _Attractive with some of the bluest eyes I've ever seen._ It really hadn't been a pity that he'd died, now dean would get to see his slim body and pretty face in his head anytime he liked as he replayed the feeling of the skin coming apart beneath the sharp blade of the knife.

Dean moved to get up when he noticed what the side article on the front page was about.Taking his seat again he read it through twice to make sure he remembered it. Another killer seemingly on the loose. _This one doesn't have rules, I could hunt him. No one would ever know any different._

So that's exactly what Dean decided to do.

~~

Castiel Novak was highly respected as a surgeon. There was always someone new to cut open and fix, always flesh to slice into with perfect precision. However, he was very aware that this was no longer enough. He wanted to feel what he assumed the green eyed killer felt every time he killed. He pictured the blood on his bare hands that were so often separated by the thin, sterile surgical gloves. He closed his eyes before taking a deep breath and steadying himself. 

Standing in the dark was never something Castiel had particularly delighted in. He was by no means a small man, he was lean, but slightly broader in all the right places making him all sharp angles and defined muscle. Of course, he had no intention of claiming his first victim today, he simply desired to people watch. To see how often people passed by and see how cautious they were.

Castiel was silent. He knew better than to make noise while sitting vulnerable in the dark, but yet, his breath still audibly caught almost an hour into his people watching when he saw a man in the distance leaning against a wall. He seemed to be smoking a cigarette, which made Castiel frown in disgust. _A disgusting habit._ His interest peaked when he really looked at the man. He looked just over six foot, cropped short, sandy brown hair. Castiel had to appreciate the other man, he was beautiful. It was the only way Castiel could think to describe him. 

He watched as the man politely offered a cigarette to his companion that Castiel had previously missed. The slightly taller man declined the offer and Castiel found himself nodding in approval. The taller man had scars that Castiel could see from where he hid, but despite that he was attractive. However that didn't stop the rushing feeling of excitement as he watched the fear flicker across his attractive face. The smaller one restrained him fairly easily, grunting something in disappointment before simply slitting his companions throat.

Castiel was very aware who he was watching. _The Green eyed killer._ Suddenly he was in no mood to simply observe. He wanted to make an acquaintance of the green eyed killer. He wanted to meet him and speak with him. To see how alike or different they were. But if the killer didn't live up to Castiel's expectations, Castiel decided he would simply kill him. _A beautiful set of choices and decisions, but not nearly as beautiful as the killer himself._

Castiel however, did not have a death wish. He knew that if he approached the killer now, it was likely that Castiel himself would be on the receiving end of the mans blade. So Castiel sat and waited for the man to leave, and only when he considered it safe enough he departed from his hiding spot. He wondered peacefully down a slightly hidden trail, not quite expecting to come across anyone, but ultimately unsurprised at the sight of two young teenagers making out at the side of the trail. Far enough that they wouldn't be interrupted but close enough that they could still see the trail and they could still be easily seen.

Castiel kept to himself, aware that the teenagers could see him, but he silently watched as the blue and red lights from the arriving police cars lit up the darkness. He clearly had no desire to be seen here, but it seemed to be slightly difficult with the fact that the boy was starting to try to get Castiel's attention.

"Hey man! We're busy here, get your ass out of here!" The boy was going to attract the attention of someone that would obviously wish to speak to Castiel and that was specifically what Castiel was trying to avoid.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Castiel started to move further along the path, but stopped when he noticed the boy had cut in front of him to prevent him leaving. _Ridiculously impolite._ It's a common thought that Castiel had, bad behaviour sat terribly with him, but tonight it just seemed to irritate him that tiny bit more.

"What are you? Some kind of fag-" The boy didn't get to finish his sentence. Castiel forbid it as his knuckles connected with the boys nose. Castiel grinned at the boys fear as he stumbled backwards and landing on his ass in an attempt to return to his girlfriend, his left hand trying to stop the gushing blood falling freely from his crooked nose as his right hand helped shuffle his weight backwards. Castiel approached him calmly, his nice dress shoe coming down in a sharp motion on the boys head knocking him unconscious immediately. He quickly approached the girl in an almost feline manner, simply grabbing her jaw and moving it in a swift motion until he felt it snap beneath his hand. She was still alive, barely, paralysed beyond fixing. Castiel would return to her when he was finished with the boy. 

Castiel pulled a scalpel wrapped in a handkerchief from his suit trousers pocket, kneeling down beside the boys warm body. He was careful, the same perfect hand he always used when operating, yet this time the rush was ten times what he would feel in the operating room. A perfect cut from throat to navel allowed Castiel his first kill. He had no time for trophies tonight. He hummed softly to himself as the blood cascaded from the wound, bathing the body in a warm slick, sticky coating. Sitting still for a moment, Castiel appreciated the fact he had been able to do this with the police a simple shout away.

Turning to the girl, Castiel made sure he took a little more care this time. He started small, slices across her body that contributed nothing other than a sting of pain before he moved to the next clean patch of skin. Castiel revelled in it, a few more easy moments of pain before he slit her throat fluidly, the motion just as precise and calculated as any other he had made since he began. 

Retrieving the handkerchief, Castiel wiped his hands to the best of his ability before re-wrapping his scalpel and smoothly placing it back within his pocket. rolling up his sleeves, Castiel now bared a minimal amount of blood, resuming his walk and leaving the bodies behind him. He hadn't intended to act tonight, he hadn't intended to happen across his inspiration either, he supposed. 

He returned to his home, a beautiful two story house with a large backyard. He cleaned himself perfectly, disposing the stained clothes and deciding to retire to bed for the night. _An excellent hunt, hopefully next time I shall get to choose the victims to my liking._

Castiel slept peacefully that night, as if claiming his first victims had settled him. In a way it had. It soothed him into a deep dreamless sleep for the first time for a long time.

  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for the boys meeting, I hope to get back into writing this fic again as it's an idea that I enjoy a lot. Hopefully I'll be able to find time for it again. Please leave comments and let me know what you think. :)

Dean hated returning to the scene of his adventures, but it seemed a necessary evil as the other killers victims had been a short walk from his own. The media were calling this new killer _**"The Ripper"**_ and Dean had to agree that the name was a good choice, despite believing it to be slightly tasteless. The leaked photos he had come across showed perfect precision, hardly a ripper, but Dean saw beneath that. This killer had the ability to lose control. There was no logical way that the killer had decided to kill so close to Dean on the same night. _They_ _had to have lost control._ Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to befriend the killer, or display their skin as a prize to whoever should stumble upon it. He supposed he would decide when he met his new competition. 

Dean thought about how he had called the police when he had started to be noticed, how he had explained how things would work when he called and what he had desired to be called. At first no one had respected his desires, so he killed five people, lined them up on a sidewalk and called the station again. They hadn't refused him his desire after that.

Dean sat silently on a park bench, sharing the odd greeting with whoever desired to speak with him. It hadn't been long before he felt it, the pair of eyes on his back. Dean wished to give the impression that he was stupid and unaware of his surroundings, so he didn't flinch, hoping the other would make a mistake and Dean would see them. Dean suddenly realised that this killer either knew who he was, or desired to make him their next target. The first unsettled Dean. He was comfortable now, the police were nowhere near catching him, but this individual could ruin that. 

The second however, caused a large grin to pull at Deans face. He quite hoped that he would be targeted by the killer, it would likely make an interesting night. But the there was also a third possible option. Dean thought about the possibility that the other killer may wish to befriend him. He hummed softly, paying no extra thought to it. It simply wasn't possible in Deans mind. Two killers could not come together like this. _Or could they?_

Dean frowned. _Fuck this, I'm here, they're here. Lets see who backs down first._ Dean swivelled in his seat, turning until his eyes locked with eyes as blue as a bright summer sky. _Far more blue than that pretty boy I killed._ He thought to himself in an almost off hand manner. Dean easily took in the mans appearance. _Shorter than myself, but still tall. Lean and a ridiculously athletic build. He easily could've torn those children up. he looks **dangerous.**_ The simple thrill of danger was enough to pull a sadistic grin onto Deans face. Clearly, his observer hadn't expected the bold move, his startled face giving him away. _Such pretty brown hair to frame such a beautifully built face._ Dean was happy with his assessment, standing, bowing his head in his observers direction before heading away from the park. He felt almost hopeful that if he set this right and played his best hand, he would either have himself an equal, or something as close to a friend as he could get.

Dean was positive that the blue eyed man would follow him now, after all, Dean had **_seen him._** He had no reason to hide from him anymore. He was proven right when the man followed him silently down an alleyway, only stopping when Dean did. Dean leaned himself against the wall, turning to see his new friend up close. _Hmm, another pretty boy. Far more attractive this time though._ Dean sighed. "You can't tail for shit. You've never done it before. Why start with someone like me?"

Dean watched the athletic man dip his head. "I saw you. My first night. I had planned to leave, but they stopped me so I thought I could use them to gain your attention."

Dean didn't like that. _Reckless. You should whip him into line or teach him. Choose. Quickly, Dean._ "Walk with me. Don't look shifty or nervous. You'll be more memorable to the passing eye." _The wrong choice. He'll get me killed. But he could also make an excellent hunter. It could be worth it._

Dean pushed himself off the wall and walked towards an old forest he knew. Pretty far in would offer them an old shed, a quiet place to share what they needed to know about each other. Both men knew that this would end badly if they weren't extremely careful. Dean believed that the police would think that himself and the ripper would be working separately, so this offered them a short window of time to get to where they needed to be with each other, and to decide on next steps.

"Oi, not to be pushy blue eyes, but what's the name. I doubt that you want to be called _**Ripper**_ in every sentence." Dean watched as the man shivered at the name. _He likes it. Now he just has to learn what to do with it._

Clear, cautious blue eyes raised from the ground and locked with bright green ones. "Castiel. My name is Castiel."

Deans smile pulled genuinely on his face. "Nice to meet you Castiel, the name's Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean had absolutely no doubt in his mind that this man, **_Castiel_** , was anything but the best. He was positive that with a little support and a push in the correct direction, The Ripper could end up being the kind of monster anyone and everyone would fear. _That is exactly what I want from him,_ was the single thought that consumed his head as he walked with the other man. 

But Dean knew better. Of course he did. No one was ever built as perfectly willing as Castiel was. They always wanted _more._ Dean was curious. He shouldn't be, because he _did know better_. If anyone had asked him why he'd agreed to let Castiel follow him in the first place, he probably would've blamed those blue fucking eyes.

The walk wasn't a far one, It easily could have been disguised as a short hike to anyone who was unaware of what it really was. _So effectively everyone,_ Dean hummed to himself silently. He grinned to himself, allowing himself to think back on the last time he had been this far within the trail. He hadn't been alone that time either. A pale man, unlike Castiel, had accompanied him that day. _Such pretty whimpers. He had begged so well._ The thought was enough to bring an evident smile to Deans face, and he was pleased to notice that Castiel had noticed it. After all, they were to be sharing stories, there would have to be details wouldn't there?

Leading Castiel through the final path, a small cabin came into view beyond a dip in the hill. If you stood at the right angle, the cabin was easy to miss and that was why Dean had chosen it. It hadn't been disturbed in a long time, and if it ever was, Dean would know. _This shows me if I can trust him. I can either hit the ground running with him, or I can slaughter him and anyone who comes anywhere near me. It all relies on the brain that lays behind those pretty blue eyes._

"If anyone finds this, It is your fault. I will know that I cannot trust you, and I will slit your throat so deeply that it will barely be attached to your head. You have read about me. You know I can do it. I have done it before, and I will likely do it again." 

The short nod Dean got in response from the other man was all he needed. They understood each other. This was good. This allowed Dean to show him the cabin. So Dean did. He lifted the door at an angle, allowing the door to silently swing open. He watched as the blue eyes belonging to Castiel took in the cabins layout. It was an obviously worn down building, but Dean had furnished it slightly in case of ever needing to lay low within it. Of course, he hadn't taken a partner into consideration when he had furnished, but small allowances would be fairly easy to correct. 

The stained floors creaked under the weight, but the cheap scruffy carpet Dean had dragged by one evening dampened the sound as he made a move for the small table pushed off to the side. "Sit. Tell me what you want and what it will do to my _****_extra curricular activitiesand then we can see what happens."

Castiel followed Deans order smoothly, shuffling into the seat with an expected grace. It made Dean wonder what the Ripper was. _**Who** _he was, when he wasn't being himself. Taking the opposite seat, Dean took a moment to centre himself. He was aware he was excited, how would he not be? But he had already showed too much to this man with nothing in return. It was his partners turn now, and Dean only hoped that he had just as much to offer.

Castiel watched Dean. It was his turn. "Last night was the first time I have ever killed anyone, but it certainly isn't the first time I have had my hands on a body." He assessed Deans interested expression, deciding he could reveal more to this man. He had to trust him. "I'm a Surgeon." 

Dean hadn't expected that, _but it makes sense. Every move is calculated and fluid. He assesses everything he sees before he moves, despite being one of the most physically strong in likely every room he walks into. Brilliant. How exactly does one help people, when they so desperately tear them apart when given the chance? He's a patient man. I can admire that. I can also use it._

"How does someone who has gone years helping people and saving lives, I assume quite well, go from a practical sane man, to am animal that rips people apart simply just because?"

Dean wanted to press his buttons. He wanted to get under the Rippers skin and see how it stretched to fit his skeleton. His curiosity was simply the only thing that mattered to him anymore, getting caught be damned. He could get away. He knew how. Now he just had to see if he could convince this beautiful gift that had fallen in his lap to follow him down a similar path.

"They were impolite. It was distasteful."

Dean visibly stilled. 

**_He tore them apart because they were rude?_ **

"You allowed yourself to become _The Ripper_ because some kids were rude to you? Maybe your not as controlled as I had originally believed." Dean relaxed his posture dramatically, seemingly quite bored. "So you're a dramatic one. That is just lovely." He ignored the slight grunt he received in response to his assessment, but Dean himself believed his review on the matter was quite sound. _The man goes around with no rules, simply killing people because they're rude. I mean I get it, I've killed someone who annoyed me more than once, but it wasn't my whole becoming._

Dean needed to think about this, he needed to really consider if he should allow this man near him. Dean had been doing this a long time, and what he didn't need was for it to crumble down around him simply because a pair of pretty blue eyes were enough to sway him completely. 

"Here's whats going to happen blue eyes. I'm going to trust you. I'm going to let you leave for a week and I assume you'll be keeping an eye on me, which means you'll likely see me out on my little adventures. If anything here is disturbed, I will know it was you. At the end of this week, I want to watch you with your gifts. Pick someone, anyone, and bring them here. They won't be leaving." Dean stood from his chair, fixing his jacket as he spoke. "I want a whole show pretty boy. If there is no show, I would get rather annoyed." Taking a step closer to the door, Dean watched Castiel's startled face. _He hadn't expected such trust so fast. That's good. Keep him at bay, but close enough to observe._ "Oh, and if you don't show up here in exactly one week, I _**will**_ start slaughtering people you know. There aren't a lot of Surgeons called Castiel out there blue eyes. See ya." 

Dean closed the door behind himself, knowing that Castiel wouldn't follow him. He had a lot to consider and only a week to do it. Dean did enjoy his dramatics every once in a while after all. 


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel remained calm. Panicking would get him nowhere, especially when he had been offered something he wanted. He hadn't planned to meet the Green eyed killer for a long time, but it had been by his own fault that things were moving more dramatically than he had hoped for. Still he was getting what he wanted. What he had always wanted from the Green eyed killer. _**Attention.**_

Castiel had expected the green eyes. He had expected the beautiful frame when he had seen it from afar, but after seeing it up close for so long, Castiel shut his eyes in the chilly cabin and allowed himself to remember details. _Strong physique, likely broader than myself, but not dramatically so. Taller than myself by only a few inches. Perfectly cut muscles from where they showed beneath his jacket. He is not a small man. He is hyper aware of the objects within the room he offers. He knows the best and fastest way to get through the cabin and out. He could probably have killed me without too much physical strain today. He wants something. But what?_

He couldn't see what he could possibly offer such a skilled killer, but he decided quickly, that if Dean asked for it, The Ripper would oblige. Castiel could do that much. 

Dean however, saw no need to panic. He had the perfect project waiting patiently for him to return. Despite knowing he would not have to kill anyone to leverage Castiels compliance, he was easily soothed by the thought that he could kill whoever the hell he wanted on his way home if he walked the longer route home. So he did.

_Shorter and leaner than my usual prey, also a female, but we can't get lucky all the time._ Dean almost wanted her to be fast. He wanted the adrenaline to flood through him at the small chance that she could get away from him, but he knew before he even pushed off on his right foot that she wasn't going to get away. He had done this to often for someone to get away. _Although, It could be interesting to see what would happen if one got away. I should test it with whichever little bird Castiel brings to play. Maybe it will be quite the show indeed._

The woman's hair was thick and blonde, and Dean thought it would look beautiful matted in thick red blood. He pulled his penknife from his pocket, trailing the end down her throat. "Now. It has been a hell of a day sweetheart, so, keep it a little quiet, and i'll make it faster than I had originally planned too." The body beneath him seized to a stop almost immediately, and Dean tutted loudly at the almost immediate loss of fight. "You're not half as interesting as I thought you would be. At least put up a little fight Love." Dean watched the woman stare defiantly at him. _Oh, maybe she is more fun than I thought._ "Now that's a first time development. I _**like**_ you." He smirked to himself, pressing the knife hard enough to her skin to cause discomfort and draw blood. "Such a pretty little creature. I should've shared you with Cas." 

Dean flipped the blade and slammed it as hard as the odd angle allowed into the side of her head. He watched as her eyes dulled and the blood started to seep slowly around the blade. He pulled the knife from her head, grinning as her blood coated her thick hair. He had been correct in his assessment of what she would look like, her hair slick with blood, _in death, you are far more beautiful than life could ever make you._

Dean waited silently for her to die. He hadn't expected it to take as long as it did, but yet he waited. When she died, he did not take trophies, the memory of the blood caked to her bright hair and dark leaves that cushioned her was enough to make Dean happy. So he took a tissue from his pocket and wiped down his penknife quickly before returning it to his pocket. After determining that he was clean enough, Dean returned to the deserted pathway, starting his walk home.


End file.
